Aftertaste of the Poisoned Peach
by Garnet Wings
Summary: Sarah is dealing with her devastating feelings about the past, but Jareth hates that she so effectively blocked memories of him out. He visits her in disguise to change her mind, but will it be worth breaking her to hear her admit the memories are real?
1. Empty when Repressed

Aftertaste of the Poisoned Peach

Extended summary: Sarah is dealing with her devastating feelings about the past, but Jareth hates that she has so effectively blocked memories of him out. He visits her in disguise to change her mind, but will it be worth the risk of breaking her mind to hear her admit the memories are real? Which is more important to him, her beautiful mind or her acknowledgment of his existence?

Ch 1

Empty when Repressed

* * *

The woman stood surrounded by the soft radiance of her work lamps; their glow set the perfect mood for her rhythmic, mind consuming work. She pressed the sharp jack plane smoothly across the wood, pulling from it the arching shape she desired. Her grip secure but not tight on the tool as wood shavings tickled across her hands as they tumbled down.

She sighed, stepping back as she pressed the handkerchief at her neck to her mouth to clear the sweat that had accumulated as she gazed at the perfect curve she'd created. It rose from its yet un-carved base, rising to its peak at the back and its sides sloping forward and down to end in inward sweeping swirls with just enough space between them for a body to fit comfortably through. She'd sand it down until it was smooth as glass in the morning, but for now she could rest easy in the knowledge of this small accomplishment. Returning her tools to their homes and meticulously sweeping the mess from the floor, she replaced the handkerchief with a scarf as she switched off the lights of the work room and made her way through the showroom, basking in the heavy, earthy smell of wood and stain. She tucked herself into a jacket and stepped out into the brisk autumn night, shocking her after the cocoon of warmth the shop provided. The street was deserted in these few hours before midnight in this cozy part of town where the shops had stood un-budging against modern sprawl since the town's inception. She would have it no other way.

Buttoning her coat as she walked home, she gazed back as the yearning to return crept upon her with each step further away. She'd be the first to admit she was addicted to her work, she just wished it was purely for the passion of creation. But it was not, she had more desperate reasons why she worked so diligently.

.

The next morning found her back in the small workshop. Freshly arrived with cheeks still stained from the cool autumn air, she wrapped the handkerchief around her head to restrain her long, raven tresses as she basked once again in the sight of her previous night's work. That's what she loved so much about woodwork. It would always be exactly as she had left it, there was no trickery, no magic or mystery to what she made. There was only solid, safe wood that was never a disguise for something else. She could trust her creations not to torment her mind or break her heart. They would simply exist in their beauty, and not ask anything of her in return. Only what she demanded of them mattered.

Adjusting the lights to strike the piece more directly, she moved to the back of the room to collect the organic debris she'd created the night before, hesitating when a sparkle caught her eye. Looking back, she saw the wood was glistening. Frowning, she stepped closer to inspect. Crouching down she saw the light was bouncing off glass shards that sprinkled the surface. She glanced up, but no, of course there was no shattered light bulb to explain their appearance, she used only the standing lamps. With no plausible explanation at hand, she carefully swept the shards into a dustpan and set them to the side since she was unable to throw them into the trash. She was certain the landscaper the wood shavings were donated to would not appreciate them.

She spent the rest of the morning sanding the piece until its touch could have been mistaken for marble, but better. Warmth and comfort radiated from the touch of wood, it wasn't cold and unforgiving. She'd spared a glance or two at the glass sitting innocuously in the dustpan. She still hadn't figure out its origin by the time she had finished and the wondering of it had plagued her, disturbing the usual thoughtless zen that engulfed her when she worked. She now felt restless and uneasy, once foreign concepts in this haven of a shop she'd created for herself.

Frustrated, she snatched up the glass and quickly brought it out to the front of the store where she dumped it into the regular trash can where it would be separate from organic trash and far from her workroom.

A knock at the store's entrance had her snatching her head up and out of her thoughts. A handsome young man smiled and waved from outside, motioning towards a sign that hung from the door. She stared at him and then the sign, befuddled. She could see clear as day that the sign read 'Open', what was he up to standing there waving around like that with a goofy grin? With a jolt she jogged to the door as she realized the 'Open' side of the sign was facing her, she'd forgotten to turn it over. With an apologetic grin she flipped the sign and swung the door open, letting in the man and a bitingly cold breeze.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as she took his jacket to hang on the hand carved coat stand beside the door, "sometimes I'm in such a hurry to get to my next project I forget to officially open shop."

He smiled warmly at her as he moved past to walk amidst the finished furnishings on display, fingers running appreciatively along the silky surface of a child's rocking horse. "I understand. Brilliance cannot be delayed. I saw the lights on and was just worried you would never pop out and I'd only be able to admire your work from afar." His eyes twinkled with charm as he momentarily glanced back at her.

She smiled hesitantly, she'd never really gotten used to the praise heaped upon her when she started her business. It was entirely secondary to her true purpose of creating and she had never grown comfortable hearing a compliment.

"I'm glad you like what I have. Handcrafted furniture has become rare and it's such a shame."

"I agree, my family used to have this wonderful bench made of an old birch tree that would sit on the back porch of my grandparents' cabin. It came from a tree that had fallen and almost crushed my father when he was a child exploring the woods."

A clear, light chuckle escaped her lips at the unexpected turn in the story. "That must have been frightening!" she exclaimed as she joined him among the furniture displays. Together they sat in a living room set up she'd created.

He nodded. "It was, but he and my grandfather decided to make that bench out of it to 'teach it a lesson' and also for my grandfather to teach my father to always face anything that frightened him."

She smiled. "What a great lesson for a child, and of course your family got something practical from the experience as well."

"Yeah, that old thing was my favorite place to escape to when I visited and the whole family was inside being raucous. Unfortunately, it was lost when my grandparents moved. I'd hoped to inherit it or something but now it's just a family myth." He chuckled. "That's why I had to come in when I saw what you're selling in here. Some of your stuff looks like it's still alive. It's how that bench had always looked."

She nodded as she ran a hand over the arm of the chair she was seated in. The bark was still intact but had been dipped in a special liquid that would prevent it from chipping away and made it comfortable to rest on, allowing it to retain its natural look and beauty. "There's a charm to it, isn't there?"

He gazed at her as she lovingly admired the furniture. "Yes, almost entirely too charming," he agreed.

She beamed up at him, her green eyes sparkling, unaware of his comment's multiple connotations. "If you ever miss that old bench, you just come on by and get your fill here."

"Deal. But you should really watch what you say." He stood and shuffled towards the door. "I might just become a nuisance."

Shaking her head she followed him, motioning around the store. "This isn't the mall, I'm not exactly inundated with customers."

He sighed dramatically as he swung his leather jacket on. "People these days, no real taste. Everything is plastic and mass manufactured."

Face scrunched in distaste, she nodded emphatically. "Yeah, so replaceable and forgettable. How many charming, old plastic chairs have you ever wanted passed down to you?"

Uproarious laughter exploded from him. "You know, not a single one now that I think about it. I miss that old bench even more than I realized. I think I'll have to take one of these pieces off your hands one day."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise and a thought struck her. "I've got something occupying my workshop right now, but if you have a picture, I could always try to recreate it," she suggested.

He shook his head after a moment of consideration. "Naw, wouldn't be the same. Anyways, I'd like something purely from your own mind." His eyes swept over the room. "I'm impressed with what it has come up with so far."

Her face scrunched as she tried to avoid the massive, pleased grin that tried to overtake her expression.

Laughing at her attempt at humility, he strode to the door. "There's somewhere I need to be right now, I hadn't expected to see this place and be sucked into memory lane. Though I'm glad I did, having met you as part of the deal. I think I'll swing by tomorrow when I'm not busy. Think you'll remember to open up shop and let me in?"

She sighed embarrassed at the reminder of their clumsy first interaction. "Of course."

.

She hurried to the shop the next day, expectant for the young man's promised appearance. It was as if she suddenly remembered and appreciated that there were attractive men in the world, in _this _world.

She halted on the store's steps when she almost stepped on an almost invisible, glass sphere sitting innocently on the top step as if awaiting her arrival. Picking it up she was surprised by the frail looking object's substantial heaviness. It felt solid and weighty in her grip, cool and smooth. Once inside she set it on the counter as she removed her coat and flipped the sign to 'Open'. Settling on a stool and resting her chin on the counter she gazed directly into the ball. Her heartbeat sped as her gaze seemed to be dragged into its depths and memories stirred in the furthest reaches of her mind. What was going on? This thing was bringing an uneasy sense of urgency and need into her heart where she'd worked so hard to bring calmness and peace.

Abruptly she hustled to the door and flipped the sign back to 'Closed'. Snatching her coat from its hook she brought it back into the workroom and switched off the lights so that the shop would appear deserted as she shut out the world and embraced the pull of solitude and the desire to press metal to wood and carve. Knowing this frantic state well, she carefully maneuvered around the piece she'd been working on before and from the side she snatched a fresh log from a pile and secured it vertically in a clamp and began to hack at the bark. She needed something that did not involve delicate, intricate motions. She needed something she could blast away at.

Eventually she heard the knock at the front door, something usually impossible to hear from her back room, but she had been listening for it, anticipating it. Hearing it made her pause and strain to listen. Knuckles on glass once again echoed through the store and she struggled to release herself from the overwhelming, voracious need to continue. She yearned to be in the handsome stranger's friendly company, but at the third knock she resumed her work, resigning to the pressing need. Hearing every continued attempt to rouse her, and the ensuing silence as the man gave up made her hate her inability to control herself. It was once again just her and the unnerving sounds of metal hacking into tree flesh that seemed to inhabit the entire world.

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a/n: Even remotely interesting? let me know~


	2. Chapter 2

CH 2

She was sitting on the floor with her arms around her knees, eyes level with the plain, carved bowl that had been born from her fervor to create, to escape into the secure world of the tactile. It had given her what she needed. She was calm once more. Caringly lifting the bow, she carried it to the dim front room where only the glow of the street lamps seeping through her window from outside lit her way. The bowl should be left out to dry, to allow the autumn air to suck the last ounces of moisture and life from the once living core wood, but she had been lucky thus far and had never lost a piece to a crack in the drying process and, therefore, felt safe in using it for her desired purpose right away.

Reaching the counter, she set it upside down onto the offending glass globe. Now out of view, the fantastical object was trapped in her jail of the real world, of the mundane. She pressed her hands into what should have been the warm, rough feel of moist wood, but somehow all she felt was the cool glassy surface of the sphere tingle against her palm. Snatching her hands away, she fled.

She ended up spending the night reminiscent of one she had lived ten years ago, immediately following that crucial experience in her life, curled up in her bedroom, telling herself it had all been a terrible dream, that her legs weren't sore from hours of running and that there wasn't an after taste of peach lingering on her tongue when she awoke. At fourteen, she'd frightened herself into believing she was unsafe to be around Toby and had left home the moment she'd turned sixteen. Her parents had fought with her to seek help over the unsuspected breakdown and subsequent paranoia. And she had found help, in the solace of working with her hands in the very real, natural medium of wood working. She'd tried other hobbies, but with wood there was a rhythm she found soothing. The shaving, sanding and chiseling, it was all so calming and easy to lose herself in. As the years past she calmed and returned to some semblance of a normal person.

.

The bowl was broken. A ragged crack marred it like an angry scar. Unnatural and frightening, the bowl still stood as one piece.

She placed a hand tentatively to both sides and slid the pieces apart. The sound of it slithering across the counter echoed around her, revealing the globe sitting tranquilly where she had left it. Tears filled her eyes, as if pushed there by her frantic heart. 'What's happening?'

A crash of thunder rolled outside in the gloomy morning and she screamed, falling into a crouch. Another scream ripped through her when the sphere dropped in front of her, bounced once then shattered, the shards seeming to rush at her feet like a breaking wave. She didn't hear the door open over the ringing of glass.

"Woah, you okay?" the dark haired man asked hesitantly.

She peered up through the prisms of her hair to see the handsome man standing in the doorway, dripping slightly and staring bewilderedly down at her, a tumultuous grey sky swirling ominously behind him.

She nodded and realized she was trembling as she huddled there.

The man, as if given permission by her nod, rushed over, hesitating at the glass then gingerly crunching his way to her. He set a thermos on the counter then shrugged his jacket off and bent over to swing it around her shoulders, delicately gripping her shoulders to lead her numb body over to a chair as he swept the glass away with his foot. He helped her to slowly lower down and she seemed to shrink into it. Crouching in front of her he held her shoulders, glancing curiously back at the glittering floor coated in glass.

"What happened?" he asked, gripping her lightly when she didn't answer.

She shook her head side to side, sucking in a breath and running a hand through her hair. Her voice came out surprisingly steady, though airy, "The thunder – it just frightened me. I must have knocked the glass over." She gestured at the messy floor that sparkled as lightening flashed, causing her to flinch.

"Alright," he breathed calmly, soothingly. He nodded to himself since she wasn't paying attention and looked up at her from under the moist, chestnut bangs that clung to his brow. "Hows about I make us something to drink? That rain's not so warm."

She nodded weakly, gripping at his jacket and tugging it tighter around herself.

He moved to behind the counter and began rummaging about. The microwave she kept there began its familiar buzz and she watched him cleaning up the broken glass as he waited. Next thing she knew her bowed head was staring straight into a mug of hot cocoa. Taking the cup and smiling into it she inhaled the chocolate fumes that mingled so intoxicatingly with the scent of lumber and took a grateful gulp, shivering as it warmed a chill deep within her.

"This is wonderful," she cooed.

He grinned lopsidedly as he sat nearby, ignoring the mug clasped between his own hands.

She smiled gently over to him. "Thank you."

"Aw it was nothing, but to be honest." He leaned towards her conspiratorially. "I got this from the diner at the corner," he admitted, shrugging sheepishly.

She threw her head back and laughed throatily in a way she thought she had long abandoned.

His eyes widened slightly as his smile grew in response to the pleasant surprise.

She quieted, gazing down at the warmth of the mug clasped in her grip. "I know," she chuckled.

"You what?" His eyebrows shot up.

She leaned into the chair back grinning, a hand moving to keep the jacket secure around her, the other resting the mug on her thigh. "Do you think I haven't had this before? It's the best hot cocoa in town. I can recognize this stuff by smell."

It was his turn to chuckle and he did so enthusiastically. "And here I thought I might have a shot at impressing you." He stood and began to pace absently.

She watched him, deriving pleasure from his enjoyment of her work as she finished her drink. As the mug grew cold, so did her thoughts. She gazed at this sweet man now with suspicion she was sure was completely undeserved, but unable to stop herself.

"Why are you here?" she questioned cautiously, quietly. Knowing he had heard her when he stilled in his ministrations. "Are you here to buy something?" She sighed after a pause, regaining her sapped energy as she thought of the unfinished piece in her workroom, the itch to return to it building, remembering the globe. "Because if not, I really have a lot to do. This place doesn't run itself."

"No, of course not," he agreed, moving back towards her, smile as pleasant as ever, if a little stiff around the edges. He stopped beside her and plucked her empty mug from her grasp, easing in his own steaming, untouched one in its place. "You must be out of practice, or maybe we both are," he noted thoughtfully.

"Out of practice?" Her brow furrowed as she tracked his progress back to the counter.

He nodded as he placed the mug down, momentarily fingering the halved bowl's ragged edge. He turned just enough to see her through the corner of his eyes. "Wooing, and being wooed."

She froze and was about to stand when he waved her off with a smirk.

"Don't bother to get up." He sidestepped to the door. "I'll let myself out, now's clearly not the best time with the state you're in."

"No, I don't mean-"

He turned to her and she was stopped by his smile, gentle and pensive. "I'm Myles by the by, and you are…" When she only blinked he snatched one of her business cards from the counter as he headed to the door. Looking down at it, he turned when he was halfway out the door. "See you next time, Ms. Williams." He saluted her with the card as he took his leave.

Sarah wasn't standing, but she had never actually settled back into her seat. Finally relaxing as he disappeared from view, she allowed herself a small smile. She felt so warm. She reverently finished the second mug of the city's best hot cocoa, nestling in the warmth of it and the man's jacket that she had not yet realized was till around her shoulder's.

The rain had dissipated by the time she felt recovered from her earlier shock, and spent the day with the shop closed and restricted to the back workroom, but this time she had again reached that zone of zen that she treasured as she began carving the bottom to her current masterpiece, enjoying her work. While the top was basically formed in its rounded, horseshoe form, the bottom was still largely wild and untouched, a state it was no longer content to occupy. It was unusual for a piece to be so forceful in its desire to be exactly what it wanted to be and it taking control of the decision process gave her the opportunity to leave her mind at the workroom door.

Her parents often berated her tendency to let these whims of fancy control her hours of business, they ignored the fact that she simply did not get that many customers in the first place.

Her work went fast and by midnight she found she had completely revealed the design she hadn't know she'd been working towards from within the ragged piece of lumber. It was spectacular how fast she'd done it. The arching, horseshoe back had been joined by a smooth, circular seat and a sturdy cylindrical base.

With a sinking feeling as she sat back on her heals to admire it, she realized there was no way she was going to be able to get it out of the door of the work room. Smiling wistfully and shaking her head, 'What was I thinking?' She rose to circle the chair and ran her fingers above the swooping back rail, following its shape, 'Who'll even buy something like this? It's eccentric, too indulgent.'

She hadn't tested it out yet, holding herself back from its welcoming arms. She usually test sat in her chairs multiple times during their creation to assure they were comfortable and stable, but not this time. She could hardly bring herself to touch it beyond what was needed to pull the final design, stroke by stroke from the unformed hunk of timber it had started as. With a frown she shot a look back at the workshop door and then at the chair. How could she have the dilemma of getting it out if she had gotten it here in the first place? Then she remembered she hadn't brought it in, she'd found it there when she'd moved in. Yet another mystery to this place she supposed.

Cleaning up the fallen shavings, she left. Humbled by her ease at another project finished. She'd sit it in some other time.

A figure appeared inside the door to the chilled workroom, wrapped in night's shadows, it stalked towards the massive chair. The lights ticked on of their own accord, following the being's progress into the room, pushing back the darkness to the furthest corners. A hand ran its fingers up and across the domed back as the figure stalked around it, long fingers following the flowing shape through to the end where the wood swirled into a bun shape that would cradle a resting palm. Gripping it, the figure swung itself down into the bucket of the seat and propped a leg over the side, smirking.

"It's perfect you, silly woman. Exactly alike." An achingly masculine voice chuckled.

He was more than pleased. His frustration over her fervent attempts to erase their shared experience from her mind eased. He hadn't even needed to do anything for her to create this piece of him, it had been completely her own mind guiding her. And to think he had been compelled to prompt her memory. Perhaps he should stop since it now seemed unnecessary, but no—he loved the look on her face at his trinkets. He was determined to bring whimsy and magic back into her life. He'd have his Sarah back. She'd come around.


End file.
